The winter months can be confining in New England – short days and longer periods of darkness set in from October through January. We tend to hunker down in our homes and spend more time inside, seeking warmth and safety. Festivities and gatherings around town have promised to give us a chance to connect and check-in, to be a part of a community. Over the years, Concord has dependably been a safe and vibrant place to spend the holidays.
On September 6, 1847, Henry Thoreau left his small house at Walden Pond and moved back into the town of Concord. Having lived at Waldon Pond for over two years, he was, he would write, “a sojourner in civilized life again.”
Amos Bronson Alcott was about to drown.
How could this be happening? Born on November 29th, 1799, he was the eldest son of a poor farmer from Wolcott, Connecticut, and he was only 19 years old! Straining to keep his head above water, Bronson could see his bag on the shore with the $100 he was bringing home to help pay his father’s debts. And what of his mother, who taught Bronson his ABCs by having him trace them on her dirt parlor floor, her warm memory in stark contrast to the rigid teacher in the one room schoolhouse Bronson attended until leaving at age 10 to work full-time on his father’s farm.
When something this historic comes to pass, it’s only right that a publication dedicated to telling Concord’s important stories pauses to pay homage to the people behind that moment. This is one such tale – something that the people of Concord will look back upon as a milestone in their shared history. And the two people behind it are just as important. They have long loved this town and worked hard to build a thriving community here. What we are witnessing is the passing of the baton – one beloved chapter closes, while another opens to new possibilities. The doors of the West Concord 5&10 will close forever on December 31, 2020.
The Battle at the North Bridge on April 19, 1775, was well documented, but the running battle of the Minutemen and militia companies chasing the Regular Army out of Concord back to Charlestown along what we now call Battle Road is lesser-known. Records are incomplete and make the first five miles of the retreat impossible to reconstruct accurately. Nevertheless, the National Park Service has hunted down slender clues to provide a more complete history to the forgotten families who experienced fighting on their front lawns. Minute Man National Historical Park Ranger Jim Hollister was able to share some stories about families that lived on the Battle Road.
When you hear the words ‘Walden Pond’ you probably think of Henry David Thoreau and his cabin in the woods. If you’ve been here, you might also think of the many hiking trails and sandy little coves surrounding the gin-clear water of the pond where tens of thousands of people enjoy swimming and walking each season.
What you might not think about is the community of formerly enslaved people who once lived near Walden. Not because it was the beautiful, tranquil scene we flock to today, but because it was considered an infertile, out of the way, undesirable piece of land to Concord’s white population.
As Elise Lemire writes in her excellent book Black Walden, as many as fifteen formerly enslaved people ‘made a life for themselves in Walden Woods, enough that Henry David Thoreau could describe their community as a “small village.”’
On March 30th, in response to the COVID-19 pandemic, and inspired by similar programs in other cities, Concord citizens Rob Costello, Hilary Steinert, Susie Winstanley, Pamela Loos Gildehaus, Karen Croff Bates, Anne Elton, and Virginia Shannon launched Fuel the Fight (FTF-Concord). This community-based effort had one goal: to raise money to provide meals for Emerson Hospital staff while supporting local restaurants in the process. FTF-Concord worked directly with the administrative team at Emerson Hospital to feed medical staff working on the frontlines, and to streamline the many food donations they were receiving.
A week before Thanksgiving 1917, the Concord Enterprise printed a letter from a young Maynard man named Hugh Connors. The United States had entered the First World War seven months earlier, and Connors had shipped out with New England Sawmill Unit No. 3, a team of American lumbermen stationed in Scotland.1 “I am writing this letter in bed,” he wrote, “as I have been laid up for a week with the grippe. Over here they call it influenza,” he added, as if translating a foreign word. “I am not at the hospital, but have engaged a room about five minutes’ ride by bicycle, from our camp.”2
Concord has always been a very special place. The people who call this town home have never shied away from a challenge, nor have they hesitated to do the right thing in trying times. From mustering the courage to fire the “Shot Heard ‘Round the World” to creating a space which fostered a generation of literary legends, to standing up to fight for the abolition of slavery, Concordians are steadfast in the face of adversity.
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